


Sanctuary

by PunkwithaPen (thePetetoherPatrick)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Death, F/M, Murder, Oneshot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thePetetoherPatrick/pseuds/PunkwithaPen
Summary: It feels like that was forever ago, a thunderous bang, a head splitting scream, and then running, then stumbling, till I got here. I think of the child; her soul inexplicably bound to mine, the soul of a monster.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a prompt for a class in High School and what I did with it was I took a character from a story I was already working on and wrote a scene from his POV about something that happens in the story. Kind of a BTS look at something you wouldn't otherwise see from the character. So this was written by 17/18 yr old me and is a few years old.

Ipull the tie back out of my raven black hair and let it fall, in soft waves, over my sun-kissed skin. As I stumble over the dead branches scattered across my path, which have long since fallen from the ancient pines that stand around around me. I wander aimlessly, listening to the sounds of a bird mocking me relentlessly. I hear life stirring around me in a flurry of irony. The sun shines defiantly through the canopy to the forest floor, illuminating my path. I trip over a rock I hadn't seen through the tears of frustration and fear, and land sprawled over soft, green grass surrounding a crystalline pond, the surface smooth and timeless, not so much as a ripple dares to disturb its sleep.

 

I sit up on the edge and look down; the pond is like a mirror showing me the truth, even the parts I don't want to see. My face, caught between child and man, is speckled with a crimson mist. My eyes, a deep brown, are wide with absolute terror. I sit there a while on the edge of the pond, numb and alone.

 

It feels like that was forever ago, a thunderous bang, a head splitting scream, and then running, then stumbling, till I got here. I think of the child; her soul inexplicably bound to mine, the soul of a monster. I look down at my hands, in one I grasp a gold wrapped box, in the other that infernal mortal invention. I hurl it with every ounce of my strength into the pond and watch it sink with an intense feeling of satisfaction. I then turn my attention to the little box in my other hand, wrapped delicately and perfectly, as though the person who did this did it with a love that could withstand the test of time. I open it carefully not wanting to ruin the glittering paper. In the box rests a locket, a simple silver locket with a single, intricate black lily on the front and a spiraling inscription on the back. I turn it over to see that it's a name, perhaps the me of the child, "Liliana Iris Redthorne" and below it "Little Flower". The child's name and the name her mother called her burn into my mind.

 

I gently undo the tiny delicate clasp and fasten the locket around my neck. I look once more into the water, then I reach down and break the smooth surface with my hands, bringing the water up to clean my face. The cool, refreshing liquid trickles down my face, over my high cheekbones, and over my lips. It tastes like nothing I've ever tasted before, pure and unpolluted. I look around suddenly wide awake. The wild creatures, great and small, have come out to greet whomever it is that has entered their peaceful oasis. A gust of wind blows past me, brushing against the bare skin of my arms with the most gentle of caresses, smelling of musky pine and sweet spring flowers. The wind carries the music of the forest, the songs of the wild. The sunlight dances on the surface of the pond, it's clear depths now tainted by the scarlet drops washed from my face.

 

I rise on steady legs, I must return for he will be waiting, and he has her. I turn in my heel and abandon this place of peace, this tranquil sanctuary. I know I will return one day and on that day I will bring the child here, where she'll be safe, among the ancient pines and wild creatures. That is if I can find her, and if she's not seeking vengeance by then. As I leave I take one last glance at the pond, set in the middle of its little clearing, surrounded by life.


End file.
